


Purposeful?

by HarmoniHalo



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniHalo/pseuds/HarmoniHalo
Summary: But that did nothing to alleviate the angel's worry. Maybe he could talk this over tomorrow. He knew Crowley wasn't the most open when it came to his thoughts and feelings, though that was most if not all demons honestly, however Aziraphale still felt it was worth the effort.With a nod of finality as if he was mentally writing the thought down so he wouldn't forget it, Aziraphale motioned to hang up the phone.That was until, he heard rustling on the other end.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 133





	Purposeful?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Accidental](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172691) by [JuliaJekyll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll). 



Aziraphale kept the receiver to his ear after Crowley had slammed his phone back into base. He was less listening to the other party and more frozen in shock, words of protest dying in his throat before he had a chance to voice them. 

Something seemed off about his dear friend. Besides the fact that he was absolutely inebriated. He rushed off the phone, like he was busy. Or if Aziraphale had caught him in the middle of something rather important. Both valid options. Both reasonable reasons. 

But that did nothing to alleviate the angel's worry. Maybe he could talk this over tomorrow. He knew Crowley wasn't the most open when it came to his thoughts and feelings, though that was most if not all demons honestly, however Aziraphale still felt it was worth the effort. 

With a nod of finality as if he was mentally writing the thought down so he wouldn't forget it, Aziraphale motioned to hang up the phone. 

That was until he heard rustling on the other end. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale spoke into the receiver. "Crowley, dear boy, are you there? I believe you didn't--" 

Crowley didn't respond, but the angel overheard him talking. It was muffled at first, but when he upped the volume of the phone, the words were coming in loud and clear.

"I’ll kiss you bloody fucking senseless. All over...your lips, your face, your neck...chest…” 

'What on Earth...?' Aziraphale thought, feeling himself flush at the sound of the demon's hushed words. Who was he talking to? Himself? Someone else?

Is that what Aziraphale interrupted? Did Crowley have company? He was a demon, and if anyone indulged in temptations of the flesh it would be him. Though the thought of Crowley sharing his home, his bed, with someone else made Aziraphale's stomach tie in knots. They were friends, had been for centuries. But unbeknownst to the demon, ever since Aziraphale had grabbed that stack of books out of his friend's hand during the second world war and saw those golden eyes gleam with such affection and adoration even under their dark shades, the angel had fallen as deep as ethereally possible for the demon.

Something he still wasn't ready to admit to himself. But it didn't matter. Demons couldn't love, they could lust but they weren't one in the same. And now Aziraphale would retire for the night thinking of the object of his affection ravaging someone else. 

With a heavy heart, Aziraphale tried, yet again, to hang up the phone. But not before the demon could utter something else in the most depraved, desperate way possible, 

“Aziraphale...that feels good.” 

Oh.

Oh dear Lord. 

Aziraphale felt his ears burn at the sound, almost not believing it. Oh he wanted to hear that again. And again. And again. And again. He wanted to record it to a record so he could listen to it whenever he pleased. He didn't even care about the context at first blush, revelling in the sound as quick as it came. But as that moment pasted, he couldn't help but consider why Crowley was speaking his name in such a lascivious, lustful tone. Until the cogs clicked together. 

He's masturbating. 

No, no, he couldn't be. Not while thinking about his best friend, who is an angel, one of the least sensual beings known. It had to be something else. Obviously Aziraphale's mind was running wild with fantasies that he checked out of reality just for that second. 

There's no way on God's green Earth, that Crowley was actually--

“Fuck, angel, I’ve wanted you for millennia..."

Oh. No, he was definitely wanking. If the hushed moans and panting wasn't a dead giveaway. And he was definitely thinking about his best friend, who is an angel. 

Aziraphale felt his jaw go slack and his hands become clammy. He needed to hang up, this was such an invasion of privacy. Even if Crowley was thinking about him and calling out his name in the most delectable tone that was like a symphony to the angel's ears. This was enough. Confirmation that Crowley could at least lust after him was nice. Definitely flattering despite the fact that lust and love were separate entities that ran parallel but rarely ever crossed. Aziraphale didn't know if that was worse than having unrequited feelings. 

Okay. Hang up. Now. 

“I love you. I’m…. fuck. I’m yours.” 

Aziraphale felt his breath catch. Not possible. He did not just hear a demon admit his love to him. And by God, it was even better than the wanton moans and soft panting. The lewd sounds were like a warm, steaming cup of cocoa while the confession of love was the whipped cream that topped it. And Aziraphale wanted more. Hanging up was not an option anymore. 

The angel began to listen intently, now able to pick up the slick noises as Crowley stroked himself. But while that was all fine and good, he ached for more words. More confessions. 

“Do anything y’want to me, angel. Please. Anything.” 

Anything? Aziraphale thought. Like kiss you. Love you. Hold you. Make you let out those sweet, succulent noises until you've gone hoarse. I could worship you dear, if you would allow me to. Worship ever centimetre of your skin, leave no spot unloved or not blessed. 

Aziraphale sighed softly, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander. He was no longer in the bookshop, he was with Crowley. He was watching him, with wide eyes, mouth agape. His gaze focused on the demon's soft features, contorting and writhing with pleasure. Golden eyes staring back at him, pleading for him to touch. 

And as he reached over, wrapping his hand delicately around the demon's cock, he'd sound off a desperate keen. Then he would take his lips in a passionate kiss while Aziraphale held him, moving his hand up and down, twisting his wrist slightly, just enough. Something he had only read about, but hopefully Crowley would be alright with it. 

“Fuck, Aziraphale.” 

The demon was more than alright with it. The sound of his name caused Aziraphale's toes to curl, his fingers tapping against the desk frantically. He mentally kicked himself for opting out of making an effort earlier that day. Knowing that if he had tried he would be either sopping wet or rock hard or some odd mixture of both. However, it was one thing to listen to your friend touch himself without his knowledge, another thing entirely to also touch yourself to the sounds without his knowledge. 

Aziraphale opted instead to listen intently, and to sink back into the fantasy from earlier. 

Crowley was a wreck. His fiery hair mussed, black pupils that were usually as thin as needles were blown and wide. His hand was ghosting over Aziraphale's, urging him to go faster and the angel was more than eager to comply. The demon could barely form words, any ones that slipped from him came out unintelligible. He was almost unrecognizable from the sly, put together tempter he usually was, literally melting in the angel's grasp. 

“Angel...oh, angel... ahh, fuck, just like that…” 

Crowley whined, biting his lip painfully hard, his head flung back, exposing his neck, that Aziraphale latched onto effortlessly. And with a shudder and a cry, Crowley came. The sounds that came from him would be etched in the angel's memory, hopefully something he could remember when he was alone with himself. 

And the fantasy slipped away. 

Aziraphale's eyes opened, the lamp on his desk nearly blinding him as he came to. And without any more hesitation, he slammed the phone into the base. 

\---


End file.
